


Working Hard or Hardly Working

by cozywilde, d20crunch



Series: Flight Rising [2]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Anal Sex, I promise they love each other they’re just real bad at being genuine, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Ru is a literal and figurative ho, Ruvaak is a size queen, and also literally not safe for work, carpentry, dragons in humanoid form, original male character/original male character - Freeform, slight belly bulge, there's good aftercare tho so don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20crunch/pseuds/d20crunch
Summary: Ruvaak has the day off, and goes looking for trouble. He finds his boyfriend Romar hard at work at home, but with Romar’s tiny imperial around, the only thing getting done will be Ruvaak himself.





	Working Hard or Hardly Working

**Author's Note:**

> inspired to finish editing this by the wonderful art of luci-draws, viewable [here](https://nirnrootnoises.tumblr.com/post/177324111518/luci-draws-something-spicy-for-nirnrootnoises) and at the end of the fic! This features the tiny princely imperial [Ruvaak](https://toyhou.se/2928386.ruvaak) and his big boyfriend [Romar](https://toyhou.se/2928357.romar), both of whom do not know what feelings are and will vehemently deny they are in love. but they are. co-written with cozywilde, summary and tags provided by CorpseCopse.

Romar takes a step back from his work, tugging his shirt up to wipe some of the sweat from his face. He breathes heavily with exertion but a smile curls his lips as he surveys his masterpiece: expertly fitted river rocks destined to be some noble’s fancy fireplace, each one perfectly interlocking after long hours of careful sorting and chiseling. It’s more than halfway done, and, eager to finish, Romar only takes a moment to gulp some water before he hefts the next large stone. Just as he’s about to place it, soft arms slip around his waist, Romar grunting as his grip on the rock slips. 

“Fucking – shit,” he growls, glancing over his shoulder, and of course it’s Ruvaak looking far too pleased with himself and far too pretty. 

“Hi babe!” he chirps, squeezing tight around Romar’s waist. His eyes drift tellingly over the tensed muscles in Romar’s arms as he holds the rock steady, but that much isn’t quite enough to pacify his grumpy wildclaw after the interruption. 

“Babe, can’t you see I’m working?” Romar grumbles, finally setting the rock in its place. He frowns as a corner catches, pulling hammer and chisel from his belt to chip away the offending piece, undeterred by his clingy imperial. 

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Ruvaak whines, nails scratching along Romar’s belly. Romar huffs a sigh, attempting to ignore the shiver that runs through him at the touch. 

“Yeah, babe, but I still gotta finish this,” he says. “We can’t all just lay around in bed to make money.” Still, he turns to give Ruvaak a quick, hot kiss, ending with a nip of his bottom lip that makes him gasp gratifyingly. “Hey, wait, shouldn’t _you_ be working?” Romar belatedly adds, glancing towards a window. It doesn’t _look_ like that much time has passed, but it wouldn’t be the first time he got too caught up in his work to notice.

“I think you could make money ‘just laying in bed’ if you wanted to,” Ruvaak hums, leaning up on tiptoe to carefully navigate Romar’s horns and press a kiss to the sweaty skin of his neck. The soft touch makes him shiver again, and Ruvaak can’t help a satisfied smirk. “I think you’d be surprised how many people would pay to have you in bed. Though living a pampered life like me might make you soft.” Ruvaak laughs at the thought, trying to imagine Romar without his hard planes of muscle and rough edges. “I’d probably leave you, though. I like you rough.” Ruvaak’s fingernails drag along the firm muscles of Romar’s stomach, humming happily when he gets an annoyed grunt in response, followed by a repeated, “Why aren’t you _working_?” 

Ruvaak frowns, a little miffed his teasing didn’t seem to be distracting his gruff wildclaw very much. “I was really naughty,” Ruvaak sighs, using his silkiest voice as he leans up to drop a warm kiss on Romar’s shoulder this time. “I have this problem of saying your name in bed instead of the client’s, and apparently they don’t like that? Like, this one construction type guy came over – real cute, muscles almost as good as yours – and we got to the fun stuff pretty quick, so I’m like ‘ _yes, harder Romar_ ’–” Ruvaak’s voice slips seamlessly from his eager storytelling voice to his breathy bedroom voice, and Romar can’t suppress a soft, appreciative noise on hearing it. “–and so the guy is like, ‘what the hell, why would you call me that?’ and I’m like, ‘well, I like Romar and I love when he fucks me hard, so that’s what I think about.’” Ruvaak sighs, clinging tighter around Romar’s waist. “He didn’t like that. Got all rude and left. So now my day’s schedule is free and I’m bored.”

Romar freezes for a moment, heat rushing through him as he easily pictures the scene Ruvaak describes: his soft, gasping moans, the heat of his skin, the filthy words that spill from his tongue so easily. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he sets his tools aside as casually as he can. 

“Damn, babe, no wonder that guy headed home,” he says, nudging Ruvaak back – he whines and clings tighter until he realizes Romar wants to turn around, grinning up at him once he does – quite obviously delighted at having distracted Romar from his work. Romar slides his own arms around Ruvaak, tugging him hard against his chest and provoking a pleased purr. “Couldn’t stop thinking about me, huh? Nobody else measures up?” Romar rocks his hips hard against Ruvaak’s, eyes dark with his building lust. As if magnetized, his hands slide to the bared skin at Ruvaak’s waist, the rough brush of Romar’s callused fingers making him shiver and press closer. 

With a low growl Romar ducks his head to catch him in a rough, demanding kiss, one hand sliding up to grab a fistful of Ruvaak’s silky hair and tug. Romar grins at the whimper Ruvaak gives, nipping at his lip between kisses to leave it red and swollen. “This what you wanted, babe? What you _needed_ when that other guy was fucking you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ruvaak breathes emphatically, stretching up on tiptoe to loop his arms around Romar’s neck. “You’re just so _big_ and _strong_ , how could I want anything else?” Having Romar’s rough hands on his skin is so starkly different from the softness of his usual noble clientele, and the harsh contrast is absolutely addicting. 

Ruvaak squirms in Romar’s arms, eagerly pressing his bared skin into Romar’s touch. “No one kisses like you,” Ruvaak purrs, breath hitching with every sharp nibble against soft lips. “No one touches me like you do, not afraid to hold _tight_.” Romar’s strong arms squeeze him in response, provoking another happy purr. “ _Almost_ no one is as big and thick as you.” Ruvaak shoots him a teasing smirk, rolling his hips against the hard line already straining in his pants. 

Romar makes an annoyed noise – _the fuck you mean ‘almost’?_ – but Ruvaak swallows his response with a deep kiss. He’s honestly a bit surprised it was so easy to make Romar forget his work, and he can’t help a victorious grin slipping into his sharp kiss. He gets a tug in his hair in response, but rather than serving as any kind of punishment it just makes Ruvaak whine louder. “I need you so much,” he keens, grinding quick against Romar for some much-needed friction. “That other guy was _so_ bad at fucking me, it was _so_ boring. Plus after I said your name like the third time he wanted to stop, so I didn’t even get to come!” Ruvaak pulls back slightly so Romar can see his tragic pout, exceedingly pleased with the dark lust pooling in his eyes. “I thought about just getting myself off but... I thought you’d enjoy me being all deprived.” Romar growls, hips rocking hard against Ruvaak’s. 

“Fuck yeah, love it when you’re all whiny and desperate for me,” he says, using his hold in Ruvaak’s hair to tug his head back and leave a trail of hot, biting kisses down the smooth skin of his neck. His eager moans echo loudly in the room, bouncing off of all the stone. Giving Ruvaak’s waist a parting squeeze, Romar’s hand slides down his body to grab his ass, kneading the soft flesh with a low, appreciative groan. Egged on by Ruvaak’s pleading gasps, he’s quick to tug the silky fabric covering him up his legs, slipping his hand beneath to stroke over his skin – smooth and flawless like every other part of him, the pampered little creature he is.

“Poor thing, not getting the kind of fucking you deserve,” Romar says, giving a hard suck at the skin of Ruvaak’s neck to get a sharp whine and an eager buck of his hips. “ _I_ know you’re not some pretty little breakable thing. Nah, you can take a lot, can’t you babe?” Romar’s fingers slide between Ruvaak’s cheeks, finding him still slick with lube from his earlier activities. He gives a low rumble at that, grinning as he rubs over his hole. “Already been fucked today and you still need more.” He pushes two fingers inside him, loving Ruvaak’s keening as he’s abruptly filled. “Damn, and still so tight... they _definitely_ weren’t enough for you, babe. Such a greedy boy...” Romar finally releases Ruvaak’s hair to grab one of his thighs, tugging it up around his hip to give himself more room as he starts to rock his fingers in and out of him.

Ruvaak practically melts against Romar’s chest, so hungry for the easy way he manhandles him into better positions. A particularly sharp bite against his neck forces him to dig fingers into the sweaty muscle of Romar’s shoulder, desperately needing to ground himself as pained pleasure skitters across his nerves. He was going to leave such pretty purple marks over his skin, and Ruvaak can’t help a delighted shiver when he imagines all his clients tomorrow being _so_ annoyed someone already marked him up so well. Honestly, there was very little sexier than a possessive Romar. 

“I can take anything you give me - make me yours,” Ruvaak hums, tilting his hips to coax Romar’s fingers just a bit deeper. His fingers are thick, easily providing more stretch than three of Ruvaak’s own. “I’m greedy and hungry and _thirsty_ for you Romar, I don’t stop thinking about your dick for even a _second_.” The sincerity in his voice is clear even through the playful silkiness, so strong Romar can feel it filling his chest with pleased delight. With a parting tug to the hair at the nape of Romar’s neck, Ruvaak drops his arms to the hem of his shirt, eagerly tugging it up to bunch under his chin. 

The sight of the now bared slick, dark skin makes Ruvaak whine, instinctively pressing back even more on Romar’s fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ _hot_ ,” Ruvaak gasps, immediately nuzzling into Romar’s pectorals with a happy hum. The hand not holding up Romar’s shirt flits over his sweaty skin, tracing old scars and the dips of his muscles. Romar’s hands are always so rough, and the calluses nudging against the soft, sensitive places inside him quickly reduce Ruvaak to a needy, trembling mess. “Romar, more, please, I can’t wait this long, I need you,” Ruvaak whimpers, so painfully hard from holding back all day that even grinding against the coarse material of Romar’s pants is enough to make him teeter just shy of coming. 

Not wanting Romar to have to remove either of his busy hands, Ruvaak gives up his free hand’s reverent exploration of his chest to start working on his belt instead. It takes barely a few seconds for an expert like him to get it undone, and within moments he’s fished Romar’s dick free and eagerly started stroking precome down his length. Romar’s appreciative groan rumbles through Ruvaak’s chest, and the sweet sounds of approval coax a purely delighted smile from Ruvaak’s lips. “Already so hard for me, gonna feel _so_ good pushing in deep, just like I love. Gonna show everyone I fuck tomorrow who _really_ knows how to take care of me? Give me something to think about while they’re taking me to bed? Make them _wish_ to every god that they were this ‘Romar’ guy, who’s the only one that can satisfy the prettiest boy in the whole world?”

Thrusting into Ruvaak’s hand, Romar gasps his “ _fuck_ yeah” into the sweaty skin of his neck, kisses growing sloppy in his excitement. All but his last shreds of patience gone, he lines up another finger, holding Ruvaak steady as he rocks it firmly in with the others. That’s finally enough to set him trembling and gasping against Romar’s chest – not _complaining_ , but it’s definitely no longer the easy stretch of before. 

“Come on, I know you can take it, pretty boy,” Romar coaxes, fingers pushing more sweet noises of surrender from Ruvaak’s lips. “You want my dick, don’t you?” Ruvaak nods fervently and whines “yes yes yes,” pulling his leg higher around Romar’s hip. “Gonna have to relax for me then, ‘prettiest boy in the world.’” Romar laughs at Ruvaak’s whine and nudges him up for a kiss, deliberate presses of his fingers working him open to the rhythm of their kisses. 

Each of Ruvaak’s moans and squirms eat away at Romar’s fragile patience until he finally can’t wait a moment longer, turning abruptly to push Ruvaak back onto his work table. His soft gasp and the pretty way his silky hair fans out around him is almost enough to make Romar pause – almost. 

With a growl of impatience Romar shoves the fabric of Ruvaak’s clothing aside, pulling his fingers out so he can guide both of Ruvaak’s legs around his hips. They squeeze tight around him as Romar lines himself up with his hole, rubbing the slick head of his dick over it just to make Ruvaak squirm – though he can’t tease for long, nearly as desperate as his little imperial. It doesn’t take much effort for the head of his dick to slide inside and, rocking his hips forward, Romar lets out a groan at the tight heat, shuddering as Ruvaak’s hands clench down on his shoulders. 

“ _Fuck_ , still so tight,” Romar gasps, planting his hands on the well-worn wood on either side of Ruvaak’s body to brace himself as he presses in further. “That enough for you babe? Good and – ah, fuck – deep?” Romar groans as he thrusts forward, bottoming out fast enough to leave them both shuddering.

Ruvaak moans loudly, back arching dramatically as his body tries to adjust to the sudden stretch. Pain just shy of too much tightens his muscles, breath coming harsh and ragged. Noticing the shininess in Ruvaak’s gaze and the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, Romar leans down to capture him in a messy kiss, growling a blunt but genuine, “you okay?” Ruvaak nods quickly, looping his arms around Romar’s neck as his back slowly lowers to the table again.

“Y-yeah, so fuckin’ good big guy,” Ruvaak purrs, though it’s broken by gasps as slight shifts of their weight nudge Romar against sensitive spots. “I love how deep you get, no one else can do this to me.” One of Ruvaak’s hands slides down Romar’s arm, finally reaching his hand and twining their fingers together. Ruvaak leads him over the soft skin of his belly, shuddering and toes curling as the rough calluses graze his skin, before finally letting Romar’s hand rest on his stomach. Ruvaak shifts his hips forward slightly, moaning at the renewed pressure, and Romar can’t help a pleased growl when he can feel the slight bulge of his dick distend Ruvaak’s belly.

“Gods Ru…” Romar murmurs, helplessly turned on by every reminder of how _tiny_ his imperial is. Romar thrusts in a slow rhythm, enjoying the tight squeeze of Ruvaak’s thighs around his waist with each press forward and the firm bump of skin against his hand. Ruvaak already looks positively wrecked – damp hair sticking to his temples, face flushed, lips red and swollen, dark bruises littering his neck – and the contrast to how ethereally _perfect_ he looked just a few minutes ago fills Romar with a bone-deep satisfaction. All that, and he was still barely getting started. 

“I’m okay, fuck me harder,” Ruvaak insists, drawing Romar’s hand at his stomach upward, letting it ghost over his chest and tease a nipple. Ruvaak squirms at that, whole body shuddering with the pleasure and hot tendrils of pain provoked by Romar’s quickening pace. Finally, he leads Romar’s hand up to rest on his cheek, and the image of his huge, rough hand against the delicate features of Ruvaak’s face is almost laughable. Ruvaak’s tongue darts out to tease the tip of Romar’s thumb, keeping steady eye contact as he leans forward just slightly to suck it. Romar’s reflexive groan and sharp thrust forward make him gasp, head falling back on the table as another shudder of aching pleasure wracks his muscles. “Oh gods, Romar, please harder, you know I can take it. I _need_ you, need you deeper.” He works hard to relax, knowing his demands can hardly be met when he’s still a bit tense, and glances down to his own leaking dick, thick and heavy against his stomach. “Get me off first, then I’ll be relaxed enough for you. Can probably get deep enough I’ll _taste_ it. You want that?”

“Yeah, _fuck_ yeah, get so deep you’ll still be feeling me when those other guys are fucking you tomorrow,” Romar growls, hips bucking forward to make Ruvaak gasp and squirm against the table. He’s still too tight for the way Romar wants to fuck him, though, so he shifts back, grabbing Ruvaak’s hip to angle him just how he wants him. He thrusts forward again just as his hand slides over Ruvaak’s dick, punching an _extremely_ loud moan from his throat. 

“Oh please, oh fuck, more,” Ruvaak keens, going boneless against the table so Romar can keep shifting him as he likes until the angle’s just right, Romar’s dick sliding right against Ruvaak’s most sensitive spot and making him cry out in rapture. “Right there, Romar, more...” Romar grunts an affirmative and quickens his pace, eyes fixed on Ruvaak’s face as he whines and bites his lip, overcome by the rising pleasure. 

“Come on, pretty boy, gonna come for me?” Romar says, fingers skimming up the length of his dick before he fists it firmly, jerking in time with his thrusts. Ruvaak nods frantically, breath hitching tellingly with each thrust, and all it takes is the rough skin of Romar’s thumb rubbing over the head of his dick for Ruvaak to cry out and spill over his hand. Romar groans as Ruvaak clenches down around him, instinctively grinding in deep even as he fights not to come. It takes everything in him to keep up the slow rocks of his hips instead of pounding into him like he wants to as Ruvaak gasps for breath, flushed and gorgeous in his ecstasy. Finally Romar releases his dick, Ruvaak letting out a shuddering breath as his muscles go loose and relaxed beneath him. Romar gently rubs over Ruvaak’s stomach, smearing his come over his skin and giving a low, appreciative rumble as he feels the hard nudge of his dick again. “Ready to take me now, pretty boy?” Romar says, giving an experimental rock of his hips and grinning at Ruvaak’s low moan. His tired imperial can barely nod his assent, muscles so loose with warm ecstasy he can’t even be bothered to raise his head. 

“I’m so ready for you Romar, need you fast and _hard_ and–“ his encouragement is cut off by a high-pitched whine, thighs tightening around Romar’s waist and back arching as he thrusts forward and bottoms out again. The thick pressure makes it so hard to catch a breath, and it isn’t long before black spots start to dance in the edges of Ruvaak’s vision. “Yes... oh gods, fuck, that really all you’ve got? Come on big guy, I’ve gotten it harder from nobles on a lazy summer afternoon.” 

Ruvaak barely gets his smirk out before he dissolves into harsh gasps, Romar’s grip on his hips hard enough to bruise as he slams into him. Ruvaak’s ass is red and sensitive from the constant slapping against it, and the hot pain of each thrust makes him mewl with delight. Seeing Romar like this – grunting with effort and sweat making his body glisten – is absolutely intoxicating, and combined with the sweet fogginess of barely catching a breath, it makes Ruvaak almost feel drunk. Everything feels so _good_ and so _much_ , pleasure and pain filling him up to the brim with their intensity. 

“How’s that feel, pretty boy?” Romar growls, tilting his head until he can meet Ruvaak’s hazy eyes. “Hard enough for you? Gonna be all you think about tomorrow?” Ruvaak nods eagerly, one hand clawing at Romar’s shoulder while the other rests on his belly again, sliding over the slick skin and desperate for that lewd bump of Romar’s dick. 

“Please, come on Romar, fill me up and make me yours,” Ruvaak whimpers, jaw suddenly clenching tight and eyes falling shut after a particularly sharp thrust. “ _Fuck_ – want you to still be dripping out of me when I’m with someone else; get nice and deep for me, big guy, just let go, you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Romar growls low in his throat, bending down over Ruvaak as he finally lets himself go, pounding into him with rough abandon. Ruvaak’s gasped encouragements quickly trail off into incoherent moans, chest heaving as his breath catches on every thrust. 

“ _Fuck_ yeah, all mine,” Romar grunts, intent on Ruvaak’s face as tears bead at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of Romar’s thrusts. “Fill you up so everyone knows who you really belong to.” Ruvaak gasps, hands clawing at Romar’s shoulders to pull him down to meet him in a rough kiss. Romar groans into his mouth, hips rocking forward in a hard, shaky rhythm, gasping enough to break their kiss as he grinds in deep and comes. 

He keeps rolling his hips forward in helpless little thrusts, driving soft whimpers from Ruvaak’s throat as liquid heat fills him. “Ah, gods, fuck...” Romar gasps, collapsing on top of Ruvaak and tucking his face into his neck. Ruvaak’s faint noise of protest makes Romar shift to scoop him to his chest instead, not squishing him anymore but still holding him tight. 

They lay there for long moments, slowly catching their breath and just enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies. Finally, though, Ruvaak starts to squirm in discomfort, Romar sighing heavily and giving him one last squeeze before he levers himself up on his arms. “How you doing there, pretty boy?” he grunts, reaching up to brush Ruvaak’s sweaty hair away from his face. He gets a lazy smile in response, sending undeniable warmth through his chest. _Gods_ but this little imperial is beautiful.

Ruvaak hastily rubs away the tears in his eyes, not wanting to miss a moment of Romar’s rare, soft expression. 

“I feel _amazing_ big guy,” Ruvaak purrs, voice a little raspy from his strained cries. “Hurts so much but feels so good... though it’s kinda tipping over into ‘hurts too much’ now. A prince like me can get a little delicate at the end.” He winces slightly, fingernails digging into Romar’s shoulder as he shifts his weight.

“Relax ‘your highness’, I can’t make it not hurt if you don’t let me pull out,” Romar mutters matter-of-factly, trying to rock his hips back again but trapped by Ruvaak’s legs around his waist and tight muscles. 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Ruvaak whines, muscles starting to tremble with the residual ecstasy and the adamant effort with which he’s trying to relax them. Of course, forcing himself to relax just makes things worse, and within moments Ruvaak is making very pitiful sounds of frustration as his exhausted muscles try to squirm. Still practically drugged with the heavy contentment of afterglow, Romar leans down to offer a soft kiss, just a slow slide of his tongue and firm press of lips. Ruvaak startles slightly, both because his well-bitten lips are so sensitive and because the sweet gesture is wholly unexpected. Ruvaak is eager to accept the gentle touch after such enjoyable roughness, though, and lets one of his hands tangle in Romar’s hair to keep him close. The kiss is just full of so much more affection than Ruvaak has probably ever heard out loud from Romar, and he wasn’t going to miss a second of it. 

Within moments his muscles start to relax, overwhelmed with exhaustion and warmed by Romar’s unusual softness. Ruvaak can feel an absolutely twitterpated smile threatening to curl his lips, so he quickly breaks the kiss to nuzzle into Romar’s shoulder, hoping the sweaty muscles will mask his expression. Romar was so damn _wonderful_ , and for a brief moment Ruvaak feels like _he’s_ the lucky one, rather than the much more obvious fact that Romar lucked out in having such a gorgeous boy to take to bed. 

While Ruvaak is distracted with his nuzzling, Romar manages to pull out with a low groan, massaging a soothing hand over the twitching muscles of Ruvaak’s thighs. “Got me all messy...” Ruvaak sighs tragically, reaching backwards on the table to stretch the long lines of his body. The satisfying pop of a couple bones in his back make him moan delightedly, not missing the little ember of lust in Romar’s eyes at the sound. “You really wanna go again?” Ruvaak quirks an eyebrow, easily able to recognize Romar’s sleepy expression even through the lustful one.

“I could,” Romar insists, brushing a hand over the sticky mess on Ruvaak’s belly. Ruvaak just shakes his head, making a move to sit up before flopping bonelessly back down on the desk. 

“I don’t think I can walk,” he laments, reaching up again to loop his arms around Romar’s neck. “You’ll have to carry me to get clean. I want a shower, and my sage soap, and the peach fluffy towel. Oh and a massage too.” From Ruvaak’s tone it’s clear he’s expecting to be obeyed without question, but the very infatuated expression he doesn’t realize he’s giving Romar softens the orders substantially.

“Such a pampered little prince,” Romar grumbles, but the way affection softens Ruvaak’s eyes is enough to make him obey without further complaint. Well, not without a _little_ muttering, but he’s doing it and that’s what matters. With a groan Romar hefts Ruvaak into his arms, his little imperial sighing contentedly and snuggling in against his chest. 

“So strong,” he coos, petting his bicep appreciatively, and Romar grunts in acknowledgment. 

“Yup. Don’t know what you do when those wimpy nobles are done with you.” 

Ruvaak laughs, the sound echoing bright and sweet in the workshop. 

“Why do you think I like you better?” he singsongs, wiggling happily and forcing Romar to quickly correct his grip as he walks towards the bathroom – both of them are slippery with sweat, and Ruvaak with come as well. 

“Knock it off or I’ll drop you, your highness,” Romar sighs, turning sideways to get them through the door – gods know Ruvaak won’t pull in his legs to make it easier on him. Ruvaak shakes his head, a satisfied smile on his face. 

“No you won’t~” 

Romar rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother arguing further, knowing by now that it’s not a fight he’ll win. Shifting Ruvaak to one arm, he reaches into the shower and turns the iron knobs, waiting until the water is hot (but not _too_ hot, something he’s been thoroughly lectured on in the past) before he steps in, letting most of the spray fall onto Ruvaak. His tired imperial purrs and lifts his face with eyes blissfully closed, letting the water wash over him for a minute, before he pouts up at Romar. 

“Where’s my soap?” he whines. “I’m still all dirty...” Romar sighs and reaches over to the absurd array of soaps Ruvaak has populated his shower with, hesitating for the barest moment before he takes a bottle. “That better be right.” Ruvaak squints through wet eyelashes as Romar opens it, though he grins as the clean scent of sage fills the shower. “Awww, you remembered,” he says adoringly, to which Romar shrugs and gruffly says, “Yup. S’what you wanted.” Quickly, he adds, “Gonna have to stand now, babe. I only have two arms and I can’t hold you _and_ wash you.” 

Ruvaak whines but allows Romar to slowly ease him down, though he predictably collapses against Romar’s chest the moment his feet touch the floor. Romar’s ready with a supportive arm around his waist, pouring soap onto Ruvaak’s fancy bath sponge and starting to gently scrub him clean. He sets the sponge aside and uses fingers alone when he gets to Ruvaak’s reddened ass, automatically making a soft soothing noise in response to Ruvaak’s whimper as he rubs over the sensitive skin. 

“That’s it, you’re all right,” Romar says gruffly, fingers sliding between his cheeks to rub over his hole. “I’ll be quick.” Ruvaak nods and nuzzles against Romar’s chest, breath hitching as Romar gently cleans him. He draws his fingers away with a soft kiss to Ruvaak’s forehead, unable to hold back a small smile at the drowsy way Ruvaak clings to him, swaying a little on the spot. 

Romar gives himself a quick scrub just to get the worst of the sweat and dust off, then turns off the water and scoops Ruvaak into his arms again, only getting a sleepy murmur this time. His many fluffy towels are stacked right outside the shower, and Romar tugs out the peach-colored one and diligently bundles his little imperial in it. 

“Still with me, your highness?” Romar asks, shouldering open his bedroom door. There’s a _slight_ temptation to toss Ruvaak to the bed – it is _so_ very fun to watch him bounce – but his sweetly relaxed face poking above the edge of the towel stops him. Romar gently lowers him down instead, sprawling out next to him with a tired groan.

“You’re so good at taking orders...” Ruvaak murmurs, wrapping himself tighter in his fluffy towel. “Even if I didn’t get a massage like I _told_ you to give me.” He pouts, wriggling closer in his warm cocoon until Romar slips strong arms around him. Ruvaak sighs contently, always finding it so easy to relax when he’s clutched in the security of Romar’s embrace. “I’m glad my day ended up being free. It’s nice playing with you during the day instead of just at night.” 

With a lot of squirming and soft noises of effort, Ruvaak finally gets an arm free of the towel and rests it on Romar’s cheek. For long minutes, he’s content just stroking his thumb along his jaw, captivated by the rough stubble against his soft skin. Everything about Romar was so _sharp_ , but in these rare moments Ruvaak can see the little chips in his armor and the genuine affection underneath. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but Ruvaak has a hard time denying his own hastily pushed aside feelings are the same. 

Ruvaak leans forward to press a drowsy kiss to Romar’s lips, flinching a little when his well-abused lip is nibbled. “Got me all marked up big boy,” Ruvaak sighs, freeing his other arm from the towel to trace over the dark bruises on his own neck. “I’ll probably get in trouble for it. Ought to just get ‘property of Romar’ tattooed on my ass and call it a day.” Romar’s tired, rumbly chuckle makes Ruvaak grin, pleased to hear such happy noises rather than his usual annoyed growls. “Don’t forget you owe me that massage after our nap. My pampering is not quite complete.” Romar’s noise in response is part acknowledgment and part complaint, though by now Ruvaak knows it to be his typical answer to requests. 

It isn’t long before Ruvaak can feel himself nodding off, and he tucks his face into Romar’s neck to take a deep breath of his familiar scent: earthy and spicy with just a bit of the lingering sharpness of his sweat. Wrapped in the comforting weight of Romar’s arms and the slow sounds of his breathing, it isn’t long before Ruvaak drifts off as well. _I’m the luckiest prince in the whole world..._

* * *


End file.
